Dear Santa
by CheerfulParadigm
Summary: Christmas is just around the corner and Hamish has finished his letter to Santa. What he asks for surprises John. (How do summaries? Post-Reichenbach. Parentlock AU. Drabble.)


**A/N: This popped in my head one night and I just had to write it. My first Parentlock, so forgive me if it's absolutely awful. Also, If I made any grammar mistakes or anything, feel free to point them out. It would bug me if they were left there. So, um, I've run out of things to say here... Enjoy this dumb little drabble. Read and review please. :) **

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Dear Santa...

Small, peaceful snowflakes drited down onto the city below. The sky was starting to darken with the coming night as John Watson watched London become covered with snow. Lost in his own thoughts, it took him a few seconds to notice the teapot whistling in the kitchen. He tore himself away from his thoughts and poured himself a cuppa before sitting down in his usual chair. His gaze drifted towards the Christmas lights glowing on the wall, hanging right above that damn yellow smiley. John rubbed his temple as his mind filled with images of the man who had painted it...of the brilliant man he loved... He twisted the wedding band on his finger subconciously. A voice pulled him pack to the present.

"Papa, Papa!" A small boy with dark hair ran into the room, waving a piece of paper.

John smiled a little at his excitement. "Yes Hamish?"

"I finished my letter to Santa," Hamish said, waving his paper again for emphasis.

"Yes, and we have to go mail it _now _so he can get it in time."

Before John could even respond, Hamish ran to the coat hooks near the door, standing on his tiptoes in an effort to try and reach his favourite blue coat. The good doctor barely bit back a chuckle as he stood and went over to his insistent son. Hamish turned around as John crouched to his level. The boy could sense a 'no' coming.

"We have to mail it now Papa or Santa won't get it before Christmas comes." He pouted, his lower lip sticking out slightly.

"Hamish," John said softly, "it's late. The post office is closed. We'll mail it first thing tomorrow. I promise. ...Plus, I think it's way past someone's bedtime."

"But I'm not even"-yawn-"tired."

John couldn't help but snicker a bit. "I think that yawn says otherwise." Hamish crossed his arms but didn't say anything to counter that. "Come on, Hamish. Lets get you to bed." John picked up his son gently and setpped into the boy's room. It had actually been Sherlo..._his _ room before they adopted Hamish. He felt his heart clench in his chest as he remembered the room as it was before.

John sat Hamish down on his bed and pulled his blanket up to his chest before brushing his hair away from his face. The boy's blue eyes looked up at his father's face. He held up the letter. "Promise we'll mail this tomorrow?" he asked sleepily.

John grabbed the letter in question. "Cross my heart."

Hamish smiled slightly, reassured. "Goodnight Papa."

"Goodnight Hamish," John whispered as he turned off the light.

John stepped back into the living room and took another sip of his quickly cooling tea, glancing down at the letter in his hand. He sighed. Between Hamish and Sherlock's...passing, he'd been picking up less and less hours at the clinic. He was making just enough money to feed himself and Hamish. He just didn't know if he had enough money this year to get him what he wanted. Sitting down his tea, he unfolded the paper and started to read.

'Dear Santa,

Thank you for the all you gave me last year. It was really nice. Me and Daddy had fun with the chemistry set.'

John almost chuckled as he remembered Sherlock setting up little experiments with the tiny set and mixing colourful chemicals to entertain Hamish.

'I just want to ask you for one thing this year. Would you bring Daddy back?'

John's eyes widened slightly and he gulped.

'I miss him a lot and I think Papa does too. He looks sad a lot. I don't want Papa to be sad. Please bring Daddy back. I think it would make him happy.

Hamish Holmes'

John's grip on the letter tightened and he gulped again. One hand covered his mouth as he looked at that yellow face, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.


End file.
